


Pretty In Pink

by AbsolutelyNothing



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Panties, fetus panic, this was requested by a lot of people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNothing/pseuds/AbsolutelyNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon has a little secret. It makes him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty In Pink

**Author's Note:**

> I finally fucking wrote it

Brendon remembers exactly when his secret started. It was when he was fourteen and his mother accidentally placed a pair of his older sister's underwear in Brendon's stack of laundry when she sorted it out.

 

He had picked them out of his own stack of boxer briefs, holding them up at length to inspect him. He nearly threw them down the hall to his sister, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the bit of lace between his fingertips or the pale blue color that prevented him from giving them back immediately, he wasn't sure.

 

But whatever it was found Brendon hastily shutting his bedroom door and pulling off his shorts and his own underwear before sliding his sister's on, feeling shameful and almost guilty.

 

The shame intensified when he looked in the mirror and _liked_ it. The panties were cotton, same as his own, but he liked these better, even though they were a little too tight, clearly having been designed for someone without a dick (and most likely a smaller ass.)

 

He told himself he shouldn't like the feeling of them between his legs or the way the lace on the hem looked against his skin. But he _did_. He liked the way he looked and _that_ was something different. They made him feel almost _pretty_.  Brendon found he didn’t mind the swell of his ass as much in the panties, or the way he was tiny and unfit everywhere else.

 

Brendon hadn’t been able to stop staring at himself, thoughts wandering unbidden to lingerie ads and how much prettier those panties were, how silk and satin would feel between his legs and a heavy guilt-ridden excitement hung over him.

 

His reverie was interrupted when his mother knocked on the door and told him it was time for dinner. He snapped back to his reflection, looking at the skinny boy in thick glasses and pale blue girl’s bikini briefs. Brendon flushed bright red and told his mom he’d be right down, trying not to let his voice waver. He spent dinner that night with a half hard dick and his sister eventually decided that the washing machine ate her underwear.

 

After the first time, Brendon hid them away at the back of his underwear drawer under all of his socks. He would pull them out when he felt bad about himself. He’d put them on and let them make him feel okay again. He was so insecure about himself, but the underwear gave him a weird sense of confidence.

* * *

 It took him six months to finally break down and buy more panties, venturing into the JC Penney junior girl’s section after nearly half an hour of agonizing in the shoe department. He could feel his face heating up as he approached the lingerie with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head.

 

He hastily picked five pairs of panties from the bargain table in his size and walked quickly to the register, head down and shoulders up to his ears. He couldn’t look at the cashier as she rang them up and he pushed the cash across the counter to her. He barely mumbled a thanks when she handed him his change and the gray bag containing his purchases. He biked home as quickly as possible, not looking at anybody and made a mad dash to his room, where he promptly threw them into the back of his closet and slammed the door, whole body thrumming in triumph and embarrassment. 

* * *

 

By the time he joined the band, he could drive and had a job, which made purchasing his lingerie much easier. He’d also taken to wearing them nearly everyday since meeting Ryan Ross.

 

Ryan Ross was kind of ridiculously pretty even though he tried to play it off. He was also ridiculously tall and slim and he made Brendon feel like a clumsy whale in comparison. Ryan had a pretty voice and beautiful fingers that made Brendon envious. They also made him think _other_ things, at night, in dreams, because he didn't let himself fantasize while awake: half formed images of those fingers touching him and those nights usually ended with him waking up sticky and guilty. 

 

But Brendon pretended not to remember those in the morning and would pull a pair of panties out and revel in the delicious sensation of them against his skin and the way they showed his ass off. He pushed the insecurity down, just like he always did and argued with Ryan about dumb things and pretended that the touching was just something he did with everyone. Which it was, he liked touching people, but he didn’t touch anyone as much as he touched Ryan. Ryan was his best friend and he tried not to entertain the notion of Ryan liking him too.

 

When Ryan suggested that Brendon be the singer instead of him, Brendon felt like he was floating for a week afterwards and ruined two pairs of panties in that time.

 

He maybe liked Ryan a little bit too much.

 

He also maybe spent half of his paychecks on Victoria’s Secret underwear as a result when he realized this.

* * *

 

It was _his_ secret. He never meant for anyone to find out what he did, the way he wore silk and satin under his tight girl jeans and craved the confidence boost and friction against his cock his panties gave.

 

He’d been so careful, always wearing belts or athletic shorts that would stay around his waist when he was bouncing around and tackling Spencer or Ryan to the ground.

 

But one day, he’d been hanging out at home, bored and alone, when Ryan had called and asked if he wanted to come over and practice some of the parts Ryan wasn’t satisfied with.

 

Brendon had agreed and gone upstairs to put on his current favorite pair of panties, pale pink satin and lace that stood out against his skin. He thought they made him pretty even if no one else knew he was wearing them. He stood in front of his full length mirror for awhile, just twisting and turning to look at himself from all angles, the flattering cut of the underwear and the intangible self esteem gained from them, the lace sitting just below his hips and the satin stretched over his ass and between his legs, resulting in ghosting stimulation on his cock. No matter how many times he wore panties, he never got over that feeling.

 

His phone rang again, showing Ryan’s name and Brendon hastily pulled his jeans on and his keys from the table, leaving quickly. He didn’t realize he’d left his belt hanging over his desk chair until much later.

 

Brendon was frustrated. The lyrics on the chorus to Build God weren’t coming out right no matter how hard he tried and Ryan had snapped at him three separate times about it. Only Ryan had been there when Brendon had shown up for practice and he had known immediately that when Ryan said ‘parts’ he really meant ‘Brendon’s fucked up vocals.’

 

So he was between really fucking angry and really low on self esteem when he dropped his guitar pick.

 

“You can’t even play guitar properly now.” Ryan grouses, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Ross. I’m trying.” Brendon snaps back, taking his guitar off and setting it in its stand before kneeling down to retrieve the pick.

 

“ _Barely_. You’re not-” Ryan cuts himself off and Brendon scoops the pick off the floor before turning over his shoulder to look at Ryan curiously.

 

“I’m not what?” He asks, wondering what made Ryan stop like that. “Ryan?” He’s a little concerned when Ryan just keeps staring like he can’t wrench his eyes away, slack jawed.

 

Brendon follows Ryan’s line of sight down, twisting a little as he’s forced to look down his own back to where his jeans have slid down and _oh, fuck._

 

He stands as fast as he can, backing slightly away from Ryan. He knows his face is turning bright red and he prays to God that the floor will open up and swallow him so he doesn’t have to deal with this. He can’t even look at Ryan as he pulls his jeans up as far as they’ll go. “Ryan, I-please-it’s-” He stutters out, not sure what to say.

 

Ryan doesn’t answer but Brendon can hear him shifting, recognizing the sounds as he sets his own guitar down and Brendon wonders if he’s leaving. The thought sends a jolt of panic through him, imagining Ryan walking out and never speaking to him again, of the text messages and emails that Ryan could send out proclaiming Brendon's fucked up habit. “Don’t tell anyone, please, _please_ , it’s nothing, I _swear_.” Falls from his lips desperately as he stares intently at the floor, cheeks flaming. He’s never felt so humiliated as he waits for the sounds of the door opening and shutting behind Ryan.

 

It doesn’t come. Instead, Ryan’s legs come into view and a hand grabs his jaw, tipping his face up. Ryan’s eyes meet his, gaze unwavering and full of something Brendon can’t quite read. “Don’t, _please_." He whispers, waiting for disgust or abandonment or even a physical blow, but Ryan says nothing, just holds Brendon there, eyes searching. Brendon tries to steady his breathing, taking one hand off his waistband to push Ryan away. Ryan stumbles back a little, clearly not expecting it. He shakes his head and moves towards Brendon again.

 

Brendon’s shaking a little, scared out of his mind with all the scenarios running through his head of his inevitable humiliation and he needs Ryan to say something, do something, _anything._

 

"Ryan" Brendon says tentatively, when Ryan just keeps coming closer, staring intently, almost hungrily at Brendon. “Ryan, please-” He steps backwards, nearly tripping over the table.

 

Ryan follows him until Brendon’s against the wall with nowhere to go, no way to get away from Ryan. “Brendon.” Ryan whispers quietly, hands going to either side of Brendon’s head, caging him in further.

 

Brendon tries to fold in on himself and disappear into the wallpaper, shrinking away from Ryan, but Ryan leans closer until Brendon can feel him exhale on his neck. His right hand scrabbles for purchase in the wallpaper, finally catching a seam.

 

"You're so pretty." Ryan says into the side of his neck, licking at the skin there and Brendon gasps before he can stop it. That is the _last_ thing he expected Ryan to say. In fact, it wasn't on the list. No one has ever called Brendon _pretty_ before. His grandmother and mother call him handsome and his dad occasionally tells him he looked nice but those don’t count. This definitely does.

 

One of Ryan's hands drops down to the white knuckled grip Brendon's left hand still has on his own jeans. Ryan gently pries his fingers loose and Brendon's too shocked to do anything but let him, releasing the rough material as Ryan drops his hand. Brendon immediately digs it into the seam of the wallpaper at his back like the other hand.

 

Ryan pushes Brendon's jeans down enough to reveal the panties again, settling them low on his waist and Brendon turns his head, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to witness it. Ryan's fingers trace lightly over the hem. "Such pretty panties, B." He says softly, lips still against Brendon's neck.

 

Brendon's mouth drops open a bit and he exhales raggedly. He doesn't know what to _do_ , doesn't understand what kind of sick game Ryan must be playing at.

 

Ryan keeps moving his fingers over the lace trim on the panties, almost petting the textured fabric and the exposed strip of Brendon’s stomach along with it. It’s almost a tease and Brendon gulps, wanting to push Ryan away again or at least tell him to stop but he can’t seem to move or speak.

 

“I bet you look amazing in them.” Ryan moves his other hand to Brendon’s left hip, rubbing circles over the sharp bone and the scrap of satin and lace over it. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

 

Brendon’s head is swimming. He can’t figure out what Ryan’s angle is, why he’s running his hands over Brendon’s body and saying those things. He’s never had words like that directed to him before. They seem like things that someone should be saying to a girl, or to _Ryan_ , but not Brendon.

 

Brendon isn’t pretty. He’s _not_. He’s average looking and he likes himself some days, but Ryan is so much prettier and slimmer and taller. Brendon wants to trust Ryan when he speaks, but he’s hesitant.

 

Ryan isn’t. He’s kissing Brendon’s neck now, lips trailing down to his collarbone. His hands get bolder, dipping his fingertips into the lace on Brendon’s panties with one hand and gripping Brendon’s hip with the other. “You always look so good.” Ryan stops, huffing a slight laugh against Brendon’s skin. “Even before, when you still had the innocent Mormon look going, I always thought that you looked good.”

 

Brendon can barely comprehend the words. Ryan thinks he looks.... good? He opens his eyes a little, eyes landing on Spencer’s drum kit across the room. His hand raises off the wall to push Ryan again, to get away and clear his head, but then Ryan’s fingers press into his hip, thumb over the sensitive spot that Brendon also presses into when he jerks off and Brendon’s breathing speeds up again, fingers flying automatically back to the wallpaper. His body is reacting to Ryan’s touch, heat radiating out from everywhere Ryan is touching him and he tries not to focus on how good it feels, how much he’s thought about it.

 

“You think they’re pretty, too, don’t you Bren?” Ryan questions softly. “You wear them because they’re pretty. _Fuck_ , they make you even hotter.” He sucks on the skin just below Brendon’s collarbone and Brendon jerks against him reflexively. He’s half hard in his jeans, just inches below where Ryan’s fingers are teasing and he can’t let Ryan know. It’ll be worse than the panties if Ryan finds out just how much it’s affecting Brendon to be told that he’s pretty.

 

His limbs finally unstick when he feels Ryan’s teeth on his skin and his hands fly up to push Ryan off, harder this time. The shift causes Ryan’s thigh to slide in between Brendon’s legs and Brendon’s fingers curl into Ryan’s shirt before he can shove him off. Instead, his breath catches on a whimper at the combined friction of the satin and the hard press of Ryan’s thigh against his hardening cock.

 

“So amazing” Ryan continues. “And delicate.”

 

 _Like Ryan,_ Brendon thinks dumbly, trying to keep his hips flat to the wall to avoid letting Ryan in on his obvious arousal. Ryan’s delicate like Brendon’s lacy panties and the nonsensical connection has him stifling another whimper. He stares at the bass drum, trying to make it the only thing he can see or think about but Ryan is too distracting with the way he’s so close to Brendon, touching him and saying such ridiculously hot things to him.

 

“Almost as gorgeous as your voice. Shit, _your voice_.” Ryan nuzzles his neck, hair tickling the underside of Brendon’s jaw. Brendon’s fingers clench even harder in Ryan’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric. “It’s beautiful. When you sing and it all clicks, I know we’re going places. You’re going to make us famous.”

 

A whole slew of emotions hit Brendon at the same time, making his legs shake and he’s so goddamn _scared_. He’s not what Ryan thinks he is, if Ryan really thinks that, he’s not pretty or gorgeous or confident or talented enough for that, he’s just Brendon, a boy who is currently pinned against the wall by his best friend, terrified because Ryan _knows_. Ryan knows that Brendon hides silk and lace beneath his jeans and boisterous facade.

 

Brendon has spent so long hiding and now Ryan is seeing a side of him that no one has ever seen before, never intended to let anyone see and Ryan isn’t running or making fun; he’s accepting and this reaction sends shivers of terror through him, because if Ryan’s lying-

 

He’s distantly aware that he’s shaking and Ryan’s still speaking about how pretty and wonderful Brendon and his panties are, his voice a low river carrying Brendon along. Brendon’s scared and horny and he just can’t think right now.

 

“So pretty.” Ryan mumbles, sliding his fingers out of Brendon’s panties to trace over them instead, rubbing over satin and lace, fingers sliding dangerously low. “You’re just so _pretty_.”

 

A broke noise spills from Brendon’s mouth before he can stop it and Ryan pulls back from Brendon’s neck to look him in the eyes.

 

“Shhhh.” Ryan soothes, bringing the hand on his waist up to cup Brendon’s face. Brendon stands as still as he can, trembling, unable to look away. “It’s alright, B.” Ryan says softly, leaning in and when Ryan’s lips press softly against his, Brendon can’t help it, he just melts against Ryan. His head is swirling and he’s so fucking confused, but he gives in to the touch, lets Ryan angle his head and kiss him deeper and kisses back, moving his lips against Ryan’s.

 

It’s better than anything Brendon has let himself think about late at night. Ryan’s lips are slightly chapped but Brendon doesn’t care, they feel so good pressed against his own, everything he’s wanted and more.

 

Ryan pulls back much too soon for Brendon’s liking and he leans forward with a slight whine, trying to reconnect their lips. Ryan smiles, but pins him by the shoulder back to the wall and Brendon’s panic starts to worm its way back into his head and he whimpers.

 

“No, it’s okay, Bren.” Ryan’s voice is still soft and soothing. “Don’t worry, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He kisses Brendon’s forehead. “You don’t have to believe me, but you’re so pretty, with or without panties.”

 

Brendon watches him unsteadily, breathing deep and uneven.

 

“The panties are gorgeous, though. You always wear belts cinched so tight around your waist to hide them, don’t you? I like them, Bren, you’re not a freak, okay? If you think you are, you’re not.” Ryan continues and heat is prickling up and down Brendon’s body at the words even though they’re meant to calm him and not arouse him. He’s fully hard now and it’s taking all of his effort not to push his erection into Ryan’s thigh for friction. Ryan’s fingers are moving over the panties again, so close to where Brendon wants him now. “They’re so soft and silky. It’s so good-I want to touch you.” He cocks his head a little. “Can I?”

 

Brendon stills, unable to respond. He thinks he may spontaneously combust. There’s no way Ryan is asking what he thinks he’s asking.

 

“I want to so badly.” Ryan stares at him pleadingly. “ _Please?_ ”

 

White hot lust flashes through Brendon’s body at that simple word and he’s throbbing in his jeans, nodding without thought and gasping.

 

Ryan’s hands drop to the waist of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zip with no pretense, gaping a little as he gingerly rubs over the dark wet spot in the pale pink satin where Brendon’s been leaking. Brendon chokes and tosses his head back, already so close.

 

When Ryan finally stops teasing over Brendon’s satin covered bulge and gets his hand inside Brendon’s panties, wrapping his hand around him and stroking, it’s all over. He cums hard with a strangled moan all over Ryan’s fingers, waves of intense pleasure washing over him and making him shake as he rides it out. Ryan’s other hand has a grip on his side, holding him steady and pressing him to the wall so he doesn’t fall as he works him through the aftershocks.

 

Brendon can’t remember cumming that hard ever and he pants, eyes squeezed shut as he leans back against the wall, too blissed out to care that he came as soon as Ryan touched his cock. His whole body feels loose and relaxed as Ryan takes his hand out of Brendon’s panties and Brendon opens his eyes to see as he lifts it to his mouth, licking Brendon’s cum off his fingers. Brendon’s spent cock twitches at the sight but he’s really quite sated.

 

After Ryan has thoroughly cleaned his hand and wiped it on his jeans, he pulls Brendon close to him and Brendon goes easily, resting his head on Ryan’s chest and winding his arms around his back, clinging. He thinks distantly that he should still be freaking out, but he can’t feel anything other than content as Ryan’s hands run up and down his back softly. He listens to Ryan’s heart beat, nuzzling against his shirt and closing his eyes. He’s so tired.

 

“Hey.” Ryan tugs his hair a little and Brendon groans softly, raising his head with effort and looking up at Ryan through his eyelashes. “I meant it.” Ryan says and Brendon knows he’s blushing. “Everything I said, about the panties, about _you_.” Ryan’s face is turning red too but he goes on. “I really really like you, Brendon.” He bites his lip as he waits for a response.

 

“I like you a lot too.” Brendon’s voice comes out raspy, speaking for the first time since Ryan pinned him to the wall. The words come out easy and loose, anticlimactic for all of the agonizing he’s done over Ryan. He has a feeling he’ll freak out later after he’s out of his post orgasm haze and more awake. But for now, this is enough, more than enough.

 

A warm smile spreads across Ryan’s face, honest and open, something Brendon has only see on Ryan a handful of times. Ryan leans down to kiss him and Brendon responds lazily, keeping the kiss soft and chaste.

 

After a bit, Brendon pulls back and rests his head on Ryan’s chest again, letting the steady beating of his heart calm him. He leans more heavily on Ryan, sighing contentedly.

 

“Don’t fall asleep like this.” Ryan says, sounding indignant and more like the Ryan Brendon is used to. “I’ll fall and so will you and I’d hate to break your pretty face.”

 

Warmth suffuses Brendon at the words. “Mmmm.” He hums. “Take me to the couch then.”

 

Ryan huffs, but half-drags Brendon to the couch, depositing him on it. Brendon’s hands reach, trying to pull Ryan down too, and Ryan crawls carefully on top of him. When he settles, Brendon is reminded of something and he forces his eyes open. “You didn’t get off.” He shifts his thigh between Ryan’s legs, pushing against Ryan’s obviously hard cock through his jeans.

 

Ryan hisses, grinding forward a little at the contact, but shakes his head. “Shhh, B, I’ll be fine, you just go to sleep.” He cards his fingers through Brendon’s hair and Brendon tries to protest, but he’s so tired, he can barely keep his eyes open.

 

“But-” He objects and Ryan cuts him off.

 

“Next time.” Ryan promises and happiness fills Brendon at the thought of _next time_. This wasn’t just a dream or a favor, this was  _real_ and there’ll be a next time and-

 

That’s as far as he gets before he falls asleep with Ryan’s hands in his hair and weight pressed comfortably atop him.

* * *

 

After the band takes off and Brendon and Ryan has officially become BrendonandRyan, Brendon still has days where he can’t stand himself, where he feels disgusting and ugly, though they’re less than they used to be. He still wears panties, not always to feel pretty, but sometimes because he wants to and sometimes to tease Ryan.

 

But always, without fail, when he does wear them because his self esteem drops low, he’ll press close to Ryan, who will try to comfort him with small touches until they can get back to a bunk or their bed at home or a hotel room where Ryan will spread Brendon out and strip him to his panties while he talks about how gorgeous Brendon is before getting him off, much like the first time. Afterwards, Brendon always feel so incredibly _wanted_ and so much lighter and Ryan will hold him until they both fall asleep.

  
It’s no longer just Brendon’s secret, but he’s totally okay with that.


End file.
